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Toes. Ten of them. Perfectly formed and unadorned. They peeped out from beneath a heavy red blanket with golden edges—the perfect camouflage. The sofa she was sprawled out on was an exact match. Of all the nooks and crannies, the multiple rooms, the suites, she’d chosen to come here.
The Sky Lounge.
The rain beat down on the glass roof.Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.His ears whooshed. His skin tingled.
He didn’t know if he’d been standing there for minutes or hours—only that he’d found her.
He’d ascended the spiralling stairs and there she’d been. His legs wooden, he’d moved soundlessly across the carpeted floor. No lights were lit. There was only the low light from the darkened sky above them. The chandeliers glinted in the shadows like strands of suspended diamonds.
He stood in front of her sleeping figure. She was huddled deeply beneath the heavy blanket in the furthest corner. Hidden out of sight. All but her feet, which were dangling over the edge of a gold-leaf-decorated sofa with mahogany trim. Oblivious to the storm. Oblivious to him.
He closed his eyes. Let it sink in. The subtle scent of her. The presence of her crawled over his skin. His body. Was it relief her felt? It didn’t feel like relief. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs wouldn’t inflate. His mind wouldn’t stop—
‘Raffaele...?’ Flora spoke his name in a soft caress.
His eyes snapped open. Zeroed in on her sleep-flushed face. His heart crashed against his ribcage.
Her warm brown eyes shone with surprise. The blanket slid down her bare shoulder as she sat up and brought her legs in front of her. She wore nothing but a blue silk vest and matching shorts.
Every emotion he’d been holding in check, every feeling he hadn’t given a name, pulsed to the surface of his skin. His face contorted. Rage burnt through him. And he homed in on that anger, the swell of it inside him, and spat its heat into existence.
‘Don’t youeverdo that to me again.’
‘Do what?’ Flora asked huskily, the grogginess of sleep lifting as though she’d never closed her eyes.
She stood, the blanket pooling around her feet. She stepped out of it. Inched towards him. Never had she seen his features so drawn. So tight.
Her eyes moved over him. The body-fitting black jumper clung to every muscle of his chest, revealing hardened abs. His dark blue jeans—
She inhaled deeply, and trembled.
He was soaked through. He looked like a man who had battled the kraken and won, but somehow, she realised as her gaze moved over his face, had also lost. There were no visible bruises, no wounds, but haunted eyes met hers.
Her hand moved of its own volition to his cheek. ‘What’s happened?’
He shrugged her off and she felt it like a physical blow to her sternum. The veins in his neck bulged.
‘Raffaele?’
The heavens opened above them. Rain hammered down on the glass roof. A rumbling roar of thunder filled the electric silence.
His nostrils flared.
‘The storm?’ she asked, eyebrows high on her forehead.
‘I couldn’t find you,’ he said, his jaw tight, his mouth barely parted.
‘I couldn’t sleep...’ she replied, her brain buzzing.
‘So you climbed to the highest room?’ he asked, his voice low. Grim. ‘Went to the darkest corner and hid beneath a blanket?’
She half turned to the sofa and splayed out her hands at her temporary bed. ‘I wasn’t hiding.’
She turned back to him, her chest heaving, her feet planted firmly to the floor, and readied herself for a fight she did not know how to win because she didn’t understand the stakes.
‘I fell asleep listening to the rain,’ she explained, and made herself breathe. Slowly. Deeply through her nose. ‘Why are you so angry?’
‘I am not angry.’ He moved to her, a half-step which brought her face directly in line with his chest. ‘I amfurious,’ he hissed between gritted teeth.
